


Once Divided

by Rydain



Category: Shin Sangokumusou | Dynasty Warriors
Genre: China, Erotica, Friendship, Historical, M/M, Romance, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-28
Updated: 2011-12-28
Packaged: 2017-10-28 08:08:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/305718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rydain/pseuds/Rydain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the aftermath of Chibi, two great commanders contended on the battlefield. Diplomacy brings more personal stakes within an amicable rivalry.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Once Divided

The city of Jiangling sat behind earthen walls next to a river gorge long since bridged. It was proving to be closer to a fortress perched at the upper reach of a narrow mountain pass. They had seized the lone point of reinforcement upriver, roadblocked the cavalry sent through the dark forest trails to reclaim it. Months of skirmishes and raids and the constant duel of siege weaponry, and yet Jiangling refused to crack.

Lu Meng furrowed his brow at the map spread out in the low firelight of the command tent. “Might it be time to consider retreat?”

Zhou Yu’s smooth voice chilled to ice. “Don’t speak in such haste.”

“Our troops are exhausted.”

“We maintain our morale. The same cannot be said for our enemy.”

Lu Meng scratched his chin, staring back into battles past. Cao Ren’s troops were machinelike in motion, reactive without recklessness. Perhaps their meted caution was giving way to lethargy, but the distinction so clear in his mentor's eyes remained invisible to Meng’s own.

“They stay close to their camps and take mere swipes at ours. They only maintain their veneer of resolve because we allowed them a certain level of comfort.”

“Or perhaps they continue to outlast us.”

“Not for long."

Lu Meng fell silent. Zhou Yu had maintained his resolve in the face of Cao Cao’s march south, meticulously laid the plans to shatter a navy quadruple their own in size. Meng might not yet see past the city walls, but he began to recognize such as a gap in his own perception rather than excessive optimism on Yu’s part.

"That shield of Cao Ren’s has begun to buckle.” Zhou Yu’s eyes sharpened, seemingly piercing the tent to gaze across the ravaged plain. “I will be the blade that breaks it.”

* * *

  
From the command platform, Lu Meng watched his vanguard march toward the city wall. It was small. It was unremarkable. It was bait.

Their scouts had espied a minor enemy force marauding about. That force soon appeared, banners over the slope followed by several hundred soldiers. It spotted the vanguard and gave chase.

Lu Meng smiled as his signalers raised their own flags and trumpeted up a great cacophony. Two wings of infantry swooped in from the east and west. The defenders flinched, hesitated, valiantly charged forth. They were engulfed.

The gates of Jiangling opened. A small cavalry unit shot out, tens of men in a tight arrowhead. It plowed through the moat, broke into a charge, cleaved an opening in the encirclement. Troops fled in a serpentine stampede as the unlucky ones at the tail end were swallowed back up. The cavalry leader wheeled around and thundered to the rescue, his brass armor and white helmet plume gleaming in the fray. He fired arrow after deadly arrow, tearing through the crowd for every last man.

The vanguard faltered, regrouped. War drums pounded desperately as the men failed to regain their rhythm. Banners sagged as formations loosened and scrambled off in disarray. Gritting his teeth, Lu Meng called for retreat.

Night fell cold and clear over the base camp. Lu Meng paced its perimeter, searching the distant stars. His eye caught a glimpse of rich silk robes atop a watchtower. Meng climbed up to find Zhou Yu looking toward the moonlit city.

“No need to apologize. Your plan was sound.”

“My plan failed.”

“Don’t dismiss its worth. It simply chanced upon a point at which stubbornness bests strategy.”

“A temporary point, I hope.”

“I know it is such. You do as well. Cao Ren will reach his limits.” Zhou Yu closed his eyes in a silent sigh. “Even if he is not so easily breached.”

The resigned esteem in his voice confirmed Lu Meng’s suspicion. That mighty cavalier had been the grand commander himself.

* * *

  
Jiangling fell to Wu along with northern Jing province, and the ensuing conflict played out in fruitless raids back and forth against the river strongholds. After years of such enmity, Sun Quan’s submission to Cao Cao carried no weight. The forts remained stocked, the watchtowers wary, and their troops still faced each other across the Chang Jiang. Idealistic as it might be, Cao Ren saw a ray of optimism in this tenuous ceasefire. A token seed of respect, striving to take root and blossom into accord.

Zhou Yu had long since passed away, and a successor traveled as envoy in his stead. Though saddened by the lost opportunity to pay respects to the man who had bested him, Cao Ren found himself intrigued. Ren was well versed in Yu’s formidable infamy. Of Lu Meng, he knew little more than his name.

Gongs from the watchtower summoned Cao Ren to join the welcoming party in the courtyard. All stood proud as the phoenixes at the gates as the convoy rolled through.

Servants moved to assist their guest from the lead carriage. His features were rugged, his chin shaded with the stubble of several days’ travel. A thick braid flowed down the back of his red and gold robes. He approached for the formal introduction, his gaze dark with guarded scrutiny.

“Cao Ren.” He bowed, infusing his words with warmth. “It is my honor to receive you.”

“Please.” A spark livened Lu Meng’s eye. “The honor is mine.”

* * *

  
Cao Ren proposed a ride to pass time before the evening meal. They took docile horses and a relaxed pace, carrying a quiver apiece in case they chanced upon game. The day was cool, the overcast sky vast as the plain stretching to the distant mountains.

“What is it that you seek?”

Lu Meng paused before responding. “In this diplomacy, or in general?”

“Whichever you’re more inclined to discuss.”

“I want to know men in order to relate to them. To understand who they are deep down, even if I can’t articulate it.”

“I could use some of that knowledge.”

“I’m sure you have plenty.”

“Not quite. I’m simply more stubborn than the troublemakers. A few hours of drills will straighten anyone out.” Cao Ren allowed himself a slight smile of pride. “Even more so if I lead them personally.”

“I have a few men that might test your patience.”

“Ex-pirates?”

A laugh. “Who else? I’ll admit, they sometimes test mine.”

Lu Meng gazed far into the distance with a purposed set to his mouth. His focus mirrored Ren’s strict riding stance, both constant preparations ingrained by command. His profile was chiseled with a rough elegance, and Ren observed it almost long enough to cut himself as Meng abruptly turned to speak.

“I also want the same understanding of kingdoms. Hence I came to see Wei for myself.”

“It is wise to know one’s rival.”

“Indeed it is.” Lu Meng turned, and their eyes met. “But I hope to know you as a friend.”

Cao Ren smiled. “As do I.”

* * *

  
“It’s good to see you relax.”

Cao Ren lounged back onto his pile of pillows, taking a long swallow of wine. “It’s good to have a chance to do so. Sometimes I almost forget how.”

“So that posture of yours isn’t permanent?”

“Not quite.”

The past few days had been a tedious span of formality. Lu Meng spent his mornings in council, his afternoons in subtly adversarial discourse with other advisers. His ride with Cao Ren had been a breath of fresh air, free of verbal chess matches and concern about the simplistic turns of phrase that belied his indigent youth and late education. Meng had schemed to sit beside Ren at an evening meal, then sought his gruff amenity on the night after as well. Their conversation flowed like the spiced black tea brought as a gift from the southlands, laced with a bit of snark at their snobbier compatriots. The third banquet ran rife with liquor and well beyond nightfall, and Meng had impulsively suggested a retreat to his apartments.

“I have a confession to make.”

Cao Ren sipped his drink, waiting for Lu Meng to elaborate.

“I was responsible for stealing your horses.”

Cao Ren pondered the reference with a stern curiosity as if he perhaps carried a grudge from Jiangling through the years to Xiangyang. When the memory came to him, it softened his face with a rueful smile.

“That damned roadblock? Well done, I must say. May I never have occasion to repay you in kind.”

“You already did.”

“That pincer attack was yours?”

Lu Meng nodded.

“That’s more of a draw.” Cao Ren’s eyes clouded over. “I was unable to save all of my men.”

“Then it seems you still owe me one.”

“I’d rather not. Let’s call ourselves even.”

They raised their cups to that sentiment. Beneath the euphoria of wine, Cao Ren’s words rang sincere. In council he spoke with judicious honesty, given to reticence rather than guile. Ren was the impassive guard of the fortress gates - hardly a backstabbing assassin in the shadows.

“What if we were to face off again?”

“What of it?”

“Would you get the better of me?”

“Perhaps.”

Cao Ren personified rocklike martial might. He was thickset and taciturn, with a tight topknot oiled to gleaming. In professional contexts, he kept his somber distance. Yet his eyes held a secret sensitivity, eliciting a furtive heat when Lu Meng’s own dared to plumb the depths of their waters. If Zhang Liao had been Wei’s blade, driving off that disastrous attack on Hefei, perhaps Ren was its heart.

“I’d be tempted to devise a test.”

“I’d be inclined to take it.”

“Without knowing what it is?”

“Tell me.”

Lu Meng produced a strip of sheer silk from his pouch, holding it up with a flourish. Cao Ren quirked a curious brow as he drew it out.

“Hands behind your back. If you break this, you lose.”

Lu Meng half expected a snort indicating that the joke was over. Instead Cao Ren tucked cushions underneath him and settled into a comfortable kneel. He overlapped his wrists, waiting patiently as they were secured together.

“What do you plan to do? Tickle me?”

Suddenly inspired, Lu Meng took hold of his braid tassel like a mischievous calligrapher. He gave the barest brush along a cheekbone, over the thoughtful mouth, up the aquiline bridge of nose. His reward was a sneeze and a brisk shake of the head.

“You asked.”

“Is that it?”

Lu Meng unhooked Cao Ren’s sash and set it aside. His skirted robes opened, displaying a triangle of burly torso.

“Hardly.”

Cao Ren watched with bemusement as the tassel approached him again. He maintained his composure while it took a slow sweep down the valley of his chest, continuing onward to circle his navel. The tuft swished up to the hollow of Ren’s throat, down and back over the slight curve of his stomach. Lu Meng reached out again with an empty hand, trailing fingers in its wake.

Lu Meng flattened his palm, slid it up, stroked his thumb over a stiffening nipple. He teased the other in kind as Cao Ren arched into his touch, a brief reciprocity deepening into sensuous rhythm. Ren's muscles were firm, his skin coarsened with hair. He shuddered at the gentle rake of nails over his flank, measured his breaths as they took on a rasped edge. His sturdy neck stretched, and Meng held back the urge to nip it.

Cao Ren’s robes fell further apart, draping onto his thighs. He flushed when Lu Meng’s eyes dropped to the tent in his loincloth. A hand followed, taking a languorous trace along the waistband. Ren let forth a groan as it slipped further down.

Lu Meng cupped him through the fabric, explored his weight with the rhythmic play of fingers. Thumbed his tip, reveling in its dampness. He twitched at the thought of reaching for the ties, of springing himself loose to relieve the strain in his own undergarments. Of dropping his head to taste the musk emanating from Cao Ren in waves as he flexed against his bonds, flushed in his half-lidded ardor.

Cao Ren tackled Lu Meng into the pillows behind him. Meng’s skirts were shoved up, his loincloth ripped away, and they were silk and sweat, beard on stubble. Hard and bare and needful, captured together in the strong curl of Ren’s fingers and pumped with escalating urgency. Twisting skyward, feather light, bursting through the clouds in a syncopation of gasps and a surge that threatened to drown them both.

As words drifted back through the evaporating haze of his mind, Lu Meng began to formulate a jest about his bedfellow’s terms of surrender. A noticed detail stopped him. The ring of fabric lay on the floor, knotted and unbroken.

“Does this call for a different test?”

"It just might.”


End file.
